


You Love, Love, Love

by midoritakamine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All ships except Estmano are minor or background, Alternate Universe - Human, First chapter is kind of slowburn in 13k words, M/M, Melancholy Ending, POV change between chapters, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midoritakamine/pseuds/midoritakamine
Summary: “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.”He glowers at his arm and lets it fall to the bed heavily. “Fuck you,” he curses nobody in particular. “I’ll never notice you, ya prick.”





	1. Lovino

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this AU for like five days straight and I'm in hell because nobody ships Estmano but I love it so much. Please ship Estmano.  
> This fic is heavily inspired by the song "Love Love Love" by Of Monsters and Men and I'd recommend listening to it while you read, especially towards the seven month marker of their relationship.

_ “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” _

Lovino’s regarded the phrase with nothing but discontent ever since he grew old enough to read it.

Staring at his wrist, he picks at the black ink on his arm to peel it away. He’s tried countless times in the past and it’s never worked. He doesn’t know why he expects it to work this time, but he tries again anyway. As expected, all that happens is the skin under the words protesting gently with dull ache. Scowling, he props his chin in the hand previously picking at the phrase and stares at it hard.

He repeats it aloud a few time, sounding the words out again. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” mutters the grump. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you. Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” With a snort, he lets the marked arm flop against the diner’s table. “Yeah, I’ll  _ never _ notice you if I have a say in it.”

Because the world is cruel, especially to Lovino, he knows he has no say in it. These are the rules. Whose rules, he hadn’t a clue; a good thing for that person, as he would love to have a colorful word or two with them about how incredibly  _ stupid _ their rules are. Who decided one day that everybody had a predetermined destiny? And who decided it was their duty, not Lovino’s, to select the person he’s to fall in love with? What if he  _ doesn’t want _ to fall in love? Has the universe ever considered that?

_ Of course they haven’t _ , Lovino concludes.  _ If they had, I wouldn’t have these stupid words on my wrist _ .

Remembering his coffee, he lifts the mug to his lips and blanches. It’s gone cold. He raises a hand and catches the attention of his waiter. As soon as the guy is close enough, he points at the mug and asks for a refill. His waiter nods, smiling politely before he heads off behind the counter to brew a fresh pot. Lovino’s back to his own thoughts for a moment and while he thinks, his mind wanders.

Feliciano is the lucky one between them. His brother met his partner while they were all in high school. A real straight-shooter, clean cut and hard-working, easy to embarrass but not without a joking side. Lovino hates the guy, God only knows why, but he tolerates him for two reasons: the words on Feli’s wrist match what the bastard first said to him ( _ “Sit down!” _ , interestingly enough), and, the most important reason, Feli really does love him. He smiles a little wider, laughs a little louder, overall just feels more at home with him than Lovino’s ever seen him with anybody else. As much as he doesn’t care for Ludwig, he can respect love when he sees it so he doesn’t voice his objections around the two. Doesn’t keep him from thinking them however, and think about them he does.

He thanks his waiter when he returns with fresh coffee, gratefully taking a steaming swig. The rush of caffeine and heat wake him up the last little bit he needs before heading off to work. After he fishes the tab and a tip out of his wallet and passes them off to the waiter, he pushes himself up from the seat and takes a final drink from the mug, finishing it off. Satisfied, Lovino throws his jacket on and makes his way to the exit.

On his way, a shoulder catches his and causes him to lose his balance. He fumbles a few steps to stay standing, shooting the other party a scowl. “Hey,” he snaps, “watch it, will ya?” Rolling his shoulder, he notices the stranger has his phone in his hand and he appears bewildered by what just happened.  _ Dumbass can’t look up for a minute to watch where he’s going _ ? Lovino scoffs and jabs a finger in the guy’s face. “Maybe don’t focus on your ten Twitter followers an’ instead direct your attention to the world around you, Steve Jobs.”

The stranger raises a brow in response, the first sign of acknowledgement that he’s heard any of what Lovino said. His confusion turns into what’s clearly a falsely apologetic smile, eyes devoid of any real regret for his actions. A wise guy, and not the smart kind. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” the man finally replies. He doesn’t at all sound sorry. “Didn’t know mafiosos let people who just run into them live. Must be my lucky day.” He slides passed Lovino and behind the diner’s counter to what looks like a clock in for his shift.

Lovino wants to speak up, chastise the man for being so rude ( _ Like I’m not the same _ , his brain taunts) but he just rolls his eyes and pushes open the door to the outside world, muttering something about how populous assholes are these days.

* * *

 

At work, he pokes at the racks of clothes he’s supposed to be sorting. It’s fall, slowly fading to winter and all of the designer coats to be on display lay carelessly in his arms. The encounter from earlier has soured his already unhappy mood and now his focus is off.

Steve Jobs-looking motherfucker. Aggressively, Lovino hangs the clothes up and glowers at anybody that dares come near him, customer and coworker alike. The manager will likely have his ass for not being friendly, but if the manager wanted friendly in his workforce, he hired the wrong Vargas brother. Picturing Feli as customer service is endearing in a way and through the annoyance Lovino smiles.

The only customer he doesn’t glare at is a young woman looking for coats for her family. He notes, the second she approaches him, that after he greets her she discreetly pulls the end of her glove up and glances at her skin. A brief flash of disappointment crosses her face but it’s replaced quickly by a wide smile and chatter about her brothers.

“What about you, mister?” she asks sweetly as she shuffles through the clearance rack. She pulls a light beige knee-length coat off the rack and fingers the sleeve curiously. When he doesn’t reply, she looks at him. “You have any siblings?”

Lovino glances away and mutters something noncommittal. She purses her lips and reaches out to him, patting his shoulder. He stiffens but otherwise allows the girl to touch him. When she gives him a long stare, he grumbles and admits to having a younger brother to which she grins widely and attempts to clap her hands with the beige coat still in hand.

“Ooh, you do? What’s his name?”

“Feliciano,” says Lovino.

She glances down at his nametag and quirks a brow, her smile somewhat catlike. “Feliciano and Lovino, hm? Italian?” He gives her a cautious stare and nods once. She giggles and hangs the beige coat back. “My current boyfriend’s Hispanic which is kinda similar, I guess? Italian and Spanish sound similar to me anyway.” She chatters on now about her boyfriend which Lovino subtly tunes out.  _ Current boyfriend _ ? He observes her evenly. So she hasn’t found her soulmate? That must be why she checked her wrist when she approached him.  _ Lucky person _ , he thinks. This girl’s really cute, and sweet from the bits of conversation they’ve had.

Lost in his own thoughts and theories about the girl, he follows her as she checks over every coat, only examining price tags when it comes to the larger sizes. She distinctly avoids anything above $45, which makes Lovino curious, damn himself.

“You on a budget?”

“My older brother is,” she clarifies, smiling sheepishly. She tucks a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear before continuing. “Gave me fifty bucks and told me to find him something that looks new enough and is soft to the touch. Funske has sensitive skin, so he needs one that’s really gentle and not heavy to wear.”

After glancing the price tags on the other coats, one $68 and the other nearly $100, he asks, “Are you and your other brother not that concerned about money?” The questions are invasive, but he would rather converse with a cute girl than hang coats or - God forbid - think about the asshole from earlier.

The girl chews on her lip and ponders his question. She glances between the coats in her arms and the one she’s examining on the rack before shrugging. “It’s not that we’re poor, in fact my little brother’s built up a hefty bank account and I make enough at work to afford something nice like a fancy winter coat. It’s more, I dunno…” She looks at Lovino. “My big brother, he used to be bad with finances until I convinced him that if he saved enough, he could open his own shop one day. Maybe that was a mistake, as now he can’t stop saving money.” Her laugh is good-natured but underneath she does appear a bit regretful.

Lovino’s never been good at comforting people, but seeing any girl in any state of distress isn’t his cup of tea either. Unsure how to go about it, he awkwardly offers her shoulder a pat. “It’s not your fault, I guess,” he mutters. “Some guys take things too seriously and make asses of themselves. Least your brother’s doing something smart with his exaggerations, I guess.” She muses his words over and after a few seconds nods in agreement. “What kind of shop did he wanna open?”

She smiles brightly, pulling the winning coat for her brother off the rack. A navy blue knee-length coat made of lighter material with a smooth exterior feeling and fluffy, almost feather-like interior texture. “A flower shop.”

Lovino half-smiles. “Well, I hope Funske’s shop is a success.” The girl looks at him funny, causing him to drop his small grin. “What?”

Realization hits her and she begins to giggle again, covering her mouth with a hand. Even if she’s cute, he still doesn’t care for being laughed at so he huffs and gives her an annoyed look. “S-sorry!” she manages between giggles. “It’s just that- it’s- Funske’s not his name!”

“Well, you said he had sensitive skin earlier so I thought-?”

“No, no!” She waves her hand and bites her tongue to stop laughing at his expense. “Funske is his rabbit’s name.”

Lovino furrows his brows. A rabbit? A grown man with a pet rabbit that wants to open a flower shop.  _ And I thought Grandpa was weird _ . Despite his thoughts, he doesn’t say anything other than telling the girl to stop laughing at him. She apologizes between snickers and waves her hand, dismissing it as something that happens often. She also gestures for Lovino to follow her to the checkout.

He does so. As the cashier rings up her purchases, she talks to him the whole time. Lovino nods occasionally to show he’s listening, barely tuning in when the girl recognizes the guy ringing up her things. With a squeal, she tugs on his sleeve and points at the cashier. He appears just as surprised as Lovino, green eyes light with a bit of amusement. With a glance at his nametag, Lovino himself finally remembers the guy as well.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” The girl says, slipping behind the counter to hug the cashier. She pulls back and smiles up at the tanner tanned man, who as a nervous habit begins to play with his hair. It’s tied loosely to the side in a messy ponytail and it becomes even messier as he plays with it, listening to the girl chat on to Lovino, introducing him as her current boyfriend’s adoptive brother João. “Toni and João look so similar despite not being related, it’s so wild!”

The cashier leans against the counter, half-smiling. “Emma, calm down. This isn’t the most amazing happenstance, though I appreciate your enthusiasm and hello. Made a boring workday a little more fun. How are Abel and Louis?” His eyes drift down to the girl’s- Emma’s, Lovino corrects. The girl’s name is Emma. He’s surprised he hadn’t asked for it yet, but now there’s no point. His coworker clued him in.

As the two chat away, Lovino slowly begins to feel like a third wheel. His nose scrunches up at this feeling; it’s way too familiar. Most of his friends already found their soulmates or were dating somebody for the period until they met that fated person. In fact out of his and Feliciano’s friend group, he’s the only one that has nothing interesting going on. Feli and Ludwig are engaged and Kiku is studying abroad in his parents’ hometown, just outside of Tokyo; their Japanese friend had been Lovino’s only solidarity in the group given he hadn’t met his soulmate yet either. Then again, he’s studying abroad and might have met somebody. He hasn’t called any of the three in a while so they had no idea what he was up to.

João interrupts his thoughts with a cough, catching Lovino’s eye. “She asked you something, Lovino.”

“What is it?”

Emma smiles at him, her phone extended. She nods a little, waving the hand with her phone. “Put your number in! I’d love to introduce you to Toni and my brothers. We all can hang out- oh, João, you should join us too!” She laughs and elbows the man, who laughs lightly but otherwise doesn’t make a commitment either way towards her proposition. Briefly, he catches Lovino’s eye and rolls his to indicate annoyance.

Ignoring the reach for solidarity, Lovino half-smiles and takes Emma’s phone. He inputs his number and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’s holding the second she waves and slips out the shop’s front doors. He and João share another look before Lovino makes his way back to his department, exhausted. Despite the social interaction and invitation to hang out with some strangers, he feels more isolated from society now than he ever has before.

Everybody seems to be more successful and connected than he is. That makes a deep-seated loneliness numb his stomach and he can’t hardly wait for his lunch break to come to get out of the suffocating store.

* * *

 

Work for the rest of the day passes by normally and when Lovino sinks into the comfort of his studio apartment couch, he wants to fall asleep right there.

Pressure slides along his leg and mindlessly he reaches down and scratches behind his cat’s ears. An appreciative purr sounds and despite himself, he smiles a bit and picks up his companion, setting it in his lap. The cat allows him to pet it for a few more seconds before it stands up and flicks its tail back and forth expectantly.

“I hear you,” says Lovino softly, giving the cat a final pet before he stands and heads to the kitchen. The animal is right on his heels, eager for its dinner. As Lovino dumps the last half of the opened can into the bowl and chops it into smaller pieces, he ponders what his own dinner could be. He finished the last of the  _ good _ pizza he had in the fridge yesterday night, and he doesn’t get paid until next week so he couldn’t go out shopping or dine out until then. The cabinets are full of cheap snack foods and just too little pasta to cook a good meal. When he sets the bowl down and watches his cat nibble on the contents, he feels a silly wave of jealousy for the creature. It never had to worry about affording its food.

Giving in, he runs a hand through his hair and grabs the last cup of chicken-flavored ramen noodles and fills his tea kettle with warm water to boil. Dinner passes quickly and after he cleans up the miniscule mess, Lovino collapses down into his comforting sheets and inhales deeply.

His nose wrinkles and he makes a note to visit the laundromat tomorrow to wash his sheets. He glances at the pile of laundry in the corner and groans loudly. Living on his own is too much work. His grandfather did offer to let Lovino stay at home until he finishes college, but the offer stung his pride. His younger brother already finished school, has a job, has an apartment, and is engaged to his soulmate. For him, the older brother, to mooch around at the nest with none of those things in his back pocket? Ridiculous.

Thinking of Feli only makes the cool apartment colder and he rests and arm over his face. He lays in silence for a few minutes, the only sound an occasional meow from his cat at the end of his bed. Eventually he lifts the arm off his face and opens his eyes.

_ “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” _

He glowers at his arm and lets it fall to the bed heavily. “Fuck you,” he curses nobody in particular. “I’ll never notice you, ya prick.”

When he closes his eyes for the last time that night, bright blue eyes and a sardonic smirk appear in his dreams and he wakes the next morning with a subtle feeling of emptiness he’s never had before.

* * *

 

Around two weeks later, Lovino is still thinking about that annoying bastard.

He isn’t sure why. He hasn’t seen the man since the initial encounter at the door to the diner. The stranger isn’t a constant thought, more an occasional target of the Italian’s pent up anger. If he stubs his toe? Steve Jobs. If the food he eats doesn’t taste right? Steve Jobs. If he runs out of toilet paper when it’s extremely needed? Probably his own fault for not buying enough, but it’s more fun to blame Steve Jobs so he does it anyway.

So when he drops his to-go cup of coffee at the diner, he immediately curses Steve Jobs again. And amazingly, when he looks up to curse the real culprit, he’s surprised to see his indirect anger is justified because staring back at him are the same cynical blue eyes and half-assed apologetic smile.

“Yo, mafioso again,” the man drawls. He seems completely unabashed at the fact that coffee now covers the floor and Lovino’s shirt. “Not exactly nice to see you again, but hello.”

He wastes no time giving the stranger a piece of his mind. “Again!” Lovino snaps, jabbing a finger into the man’s chest. His shirt is softer than it looks. “The second time you run into me! And you  _ still _ ain’t sorry ‘bout a thing.”

The blonde in front of him bats his eyes for dramatic effect which only makes a vein on Lovino’s forehead burst. In a sardonic tone, the man replies, “Why, I don’t know what you mean. I am sorry.”

“If you were sorry,” he starts, “you’d’ve acted it and maybe bought me a new cup already.”

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, the man in front of him shakes his head. “Ooh, no can do. I hardly make enough to afford my own coffee and you want me to shell out because you have butterfingers? No thanks.”

Lovino bawks and this just amuses the stranger as well as the few heads that have turned to watch their squabble.  _ This asshole _ bumped into him and made him spill the drink, so why  _ shouldn’t _ he fund a replacement? “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

His fingers drum on his arm as he feels the burning irritation in his stomach bubble. He raises his hands to rub at his temples before exhaling loudly through his nose. “Okay, fine, whatever. A compromise, maybe?” Lovino deadpans at the blonde and crosses his arms again. “If you’re too cheap to buy me another cup, do something else for me.”

This makes the man in front of him raise a brow curiously. “Like?”

“You wear glasses,” starts Lovino, “so you gotta be smart.”

“Not sure what my eyewear has to do with intelligence, but I appreciate the compliment,” he replies with a half-smirk. “I am smart, if you’re begging for an answer.”

Lovino suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “My laptop’s got a virus and I can’t afford to take it to the repair shop. Will you clear it?”

The blonde rocks back and forth on his heels in thought. He stares just over the rim of his glasses at the ceiling, lips twisting just enough that they make it look as if he’s pouting. Once he realizes he’s staring at the other man’s lips, Lovino shakes his head and reasserts eye contact. The smartass in front of him shrugs and grins eventually. “Okay.”

By the time they exchange phone numbers, Lovino remembers that he still doesn’t know Steve Jobs fucker’s real name. He stares at the ten digits sitting in his phone in confusion, the stupid nickname he gave this strange bastard staring just as smugly as the guy himself back.

* * *

 

Lovino takes a personal day the following week on Friday.

While he accidentally sleeps in, he figures that just works in his favor. He always meets the aggravating bastard on his way out of the diner, meaning at a time when he’s already up and preparing to go to work. Sleeping in in a win-win; he gets a little more shut eye, and by the time he’s up and around and down at the diner, Steve Jobs will already be there and they can avoid another literal run-in.

When he checks his phone he has no texts from the stranger which he doesn’t mind too much. It’s not as if the guy coming and fixing his laptop is an important date, so if he forgets about it, it’s no skin off Lovino’s back. He checks his phone one more time before he throws himself into the shower. Fate seems to hate him because five minutes into washing his hair, he hears his notification tone go off. He scrubs the shampoo out a little too quickly to actually clean anything before he steps out temporarily. Shuddering against the cold, he wipes his hands on a towel hanging from the rack and unlocks his phone.

The message isn’t from Steve Jobs. It’s his brother inviting him to lunch.

He stares at the message for a minute, the shower water dulling to a buzz in the background. It’s around 10:50am and Feliciano’s message says to meet at 12:30pm. He shakes his head, slightly annoyed but not enough to deny his brother’s request. He isn’t  _ that much _ of a bitter asshole. Quickly, he taps back that he’ll be at the cafe and that he’s looking forward to seeing him.

_ It’s not a lie _ , Lovino thinks as he steps back into the shower after the message flashes sent. He does want to see his brother again; the last time they met up and hung out was a few months ago, and the meetup was more for Feliciano to announce his engagement than actually spend quality time with him. The announcement wasn’t meant to come off braggy, Feliciano isn’t that kind of guy. He’s just… excitable. He always has been. The engagement probably enthralled the younger brother and made him want to gush to everybody.

Including his loser, deadbeat, soulmateless older brother.

Okay, so maybe Lovino’s  _ a bit _ of a bitter asshole.

* * *

 

“Big brother!”

Lovino looks up from his phone and smiles a little. Waving his arms like a madman, repeatedly calling the affectionate title like it’s the only thing he knows, is Feliciano. He looks a little taller, a little plumper than the last time they met. His skin is tanned a shade darker, almost matching Lovino’s. Hurriedly, Feliciano pulls the sunglasses up off his eyes and props them in his hair, amber eyes glittering even from the distance. He looks well.

“Feli!” he calls back. Immediately the younger brother takes off from his spot in front of the cafe and wraps his arms tight around Lovino’s neck. He begins laughing, rocking from side to side while chanting the affectionate title. Lovino rolls his eyes, face flushing as he ruffles Feliciano’s hair and tries to pry him off him. “Oi, Feli! Let go.”

“But it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” replies Feliciano. He bats his eyes, still grinning widely. The two brothers stare fondly at each other for a few seconds before Lovino pulls back enough that they aren’t touching anymore.

“What’s up?” Lovino asks, sliding past his brother towards the cafe. He grabs the door and opens it, allowing his brother to enter first. Feliciano sits down at a two person table and eagerly points at the other chair, waiting until his brother is seated before speaking again.

“It’s me and Ludwig!” Feliciano says, and Lovino rolls his eyes. Of course it is. “Big brother, please listen to me! It’s very important and exciting actually. I wanted to tell you first, before Grandpa or anybody else.”

This intrigues him; usually, Feliciano calls their grandfather upon any major news and then calls him second. He leans forward on his elbows. “Hm? What’s with the two of you?”

Feliciano digs into his backpack until he finds his wallet and flips it open. He grabs a photo and slides it across the table. Lovino stares at it; an androgynous child is sitting, sketchbook in hand. Their eyes are focused on the paper, a pencil in hand. A red beret sits atop their head and two long braids extend from the back of their head, the tips brushing against the bench they’re sitting on.

Lovino squints at the kid and then back at Feliciano. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Ludwig’s nephew, Hubert,” Feliciano explains. “His brother Roderich - y’know the stuffy brunet that played piano at that restaurant when he proposed to me? - had a baby and he doesn’t have the time to properly care for Hubert. So… so I asked him and he said that if they’re okay with it, Hubert could very well be our adopted child!”

Lovino stares blankly back at his brother. “... come again? You- you’re gonna adopt a brat?”

Feliciano blanches for a split second, easily returning to his usual grin. “Well, that’s the long-term ideal. It’s a lot more complicated and a lot more expensive than that, plus he’s just passed the academy and got his badge so he’s really busy getting established.” As is his nervous habit, he begins drumming his fingers on the table. “You can’t really guarantee safety with a job like his, so that’s one thing he says is keeping us from doing it. What happens if he gets hurt, or worse, and that leaves me alone with my job to take care of Hubert by myself? I-I mean obviously I’d have Ludwig’s family to help me, his grandpa and brothers and the twin cousins - remember that one blonde guy that threatened me for talking to the short blonde girl with the ribbon? That’s them - and outside of his family, I have Grandpa to help me, and you!”

_ “Hubert could very well be our adopted child!” _

He doesn’t want to say it aloud, but Lovino’s mind snips that having a child is now another thing his younger brother is going to do before him. He shushes himself mentally before he reaches across the table and grabs Feliciano’s nervously drumming fingers. “Oi, Feli.”

“Yeah?”

He forces a smile. “What is it you want to do in this situation? Do you  _ want _ to adopt the kid?” Feliciano nods rapidly. “Okay, good. You need to know what you want ultimately before you can move forward with this.” As he talks, he tunes out his own words as well as the reactions they get. The nagging in his mind about falling another step behind his brother won’t go away and guilt swirls in his stomach. Irrationally directed anger flares up too and fuels the inferiority he feels towards Feliciano.

Despite all of it, Lovino keeps himself calm and just sits and listens as Feliciano began talking about various meaningless topics. Even if he did listen, he figures he’ll just make himself feel worse between the sense of falling behind and his guilt at being so angry at his brother for something he doesn’t know. Something he can’t ever know if they’re to maintain their perfect relationship. Faking a half-smile and nodding, Lovino sits and wallows his way through the lunch. Feliciano, of course, doesn’t notice.

* * *

 

About four in the evening, there’s a knock on his door. Lovino looks up from the book he’s reading, hand petting his cat stopping as well. He ignores the mewl of protest when he reaches forward to grab his phone off the coffee table. A message from contact Steve Jobs sits on his phone, reading, “On my way over to fix your laptop, mafioso.” He scowls at the nickname and sets his phone down again. He stands and picks up his cat, carrying it to his bedroom. Setting it down on its cat tower, he grabs his laptop and shuts the door before it can escape between his legs.

A second round of knocking sounds when he reaches the living room again, making him scowl. He sets the laptop down on the coffee table before he approaches the door. He takes a quick peek through the eyehole and sees exactly who he expects to. He grumbles and slicks the chain out of its lock, unlocks the main lock and pulls the door open.

“I didn’t see your message,” starts Lovino, pulling the door open enough for the guy to come in. As soon as he and his bag are safely inside, he shuts it and redoes the locks. Paranoia serves him well when it comes to these apartment locks. Sliding around the smartass tech, he gestures for him to follow. The blonde ungracefully tosses his bag down to the floor and flops into the couch as if he owns the place. It makes Lovino’s brow twitch. “Sit up properly for fuck’s sake, this isn’t your apartment.”

By the time he finishes speaking, he notices the phone in the man’s hands is  _ his _ phone and he snarls, reaching for it. The man lets him take it, smirking as he says, “You liar. You ignored me.”

“I  _ didn’t _ ignore your intrusive ass,” Lovino snaps, “I was busy reading and I didn’t hear the notif.” The blonde hums as if he doesn’t believe him, which only serves to irritate him further. “Listen, are ya gonna fix my shit or not?”

“Why’s my name Steve Jobs?”

Lovino deadpans. “What’s that have to do with-?”

The man on his couch snickers, his tone snarky. “You totally forgot my name.”

“You never  _ told _ me!”

“I did too!” He’s laughing now and shame at being caught crawls up Lovino’s neck. He huffs and looks at the wall, staring at the wallpaper’s inconsistencies.

“... if I  _ did _ by chance forget, what’s-”

Lovino curses the sudden jump in his chest when he gets a small grin and mockingly polite extension of a hand. “It’s Eduard. Write it down this time, mafioso.” As Lovino flips him off, he reaches for the laptop on the coffee table. Luckily his interest in the broken tech keeps him from noticing Lovino staring at him.

A few seconds of useless standing later, Lovino looks towards the kitchen and mutters, “Want a drink? I got coffee, tea, I think I got a beer or two left.” He shuffles a little closer to the kitchen and waits expectantly for the man to reply. Eduard keeps on messing with the laptop as if he hadn’t heard him say anything. When he opens his mouth to ask again, he gets a sidelong glance.

“Make me your favorite coffee,” Eduard says. He raises a brow at Lovino when he speaks next. “Impress me, mafioso.”

“My name is  _ Lovino _ , jackass,” said man mutters before he slips into the kitchen. His favorite coffee? A cappuccino with a drizzle of cinnamon sugar is his preferred drink, but it’s too late into the day for one. He settles on his second favorite: a macchiato with caramel-flavored foam. As little money as he earns, Lovino allows himself to splurge on two things, those being coffee materials and Italian foods. Call him predictable (and if he asks his impolite guest, he would likely hear that exact word), but he likes his roots and he loves his roots’ taste in food and drink.

Around ten minutes later both his and Eduard’s coffees are ready and he makes his way back into the living room. He expects to see the blonde still tapping away at the laptop, perhaps even frustrated by the virus on it. What he gets instead is a confident-looking man with his feet propped on the table, laptop sitting shut on top of it.

“Oi, you’re here to fix it, not chill!” Lovino snaps as he hands the macchiato to Eduard. The man only rolls his eyes, taking a sniff of the drink before tasting it. When he pulls back, a small white foam mustache sits on his lip and Lovino bites his own to keep from snickering.

“I did,” says Eduard, setting the cup down on the table. He points at the laptop. “You didn’t have any virus, your memory was just getting full. That’s why it runs so slow. I deleted some stuff-”

“What did you delete?!”

Eduard rolls his eyes. “Outdated shit that you probably don’t use. Old versions of programs, and all those old lady card games your grandmother probably put on there. I left any photos, videos, all that. Although,” he shoots Lovino a sly grin, “you were pretty cute as an infant. What happened to make you so ugly?” He laughs loudly when the tan man now seated next to him swats at him. “Jeez, I’m kidding! Also, I saw you have a sibling. You twins?”

Lovino averts his gaze. He fixes the carpet in a staring contest and sighs through his nose. The conversation with Feliciano from earlier rises to his mind, about adopting Ludwig’s nephew, and he shakes his head a little. “I’m older. Three years. Feli’s my little brother.”

His guest makes an impartial noise, taking another drink of the macchiato before speaking. “Saw he has a boyfriend. How long they been together?”

Lovino sighs loudly this time. “They’re soulmates. Met in high school, I think sophomore year? Hell if I remember, I was busy doing my own stuff. Why are you so interested?”

Eduard shrugs noncommittally and stares off somewhere himself. Eventually he looks back. “I never really had a family, nobody to be close to. Any friend circles I landed in I was just there instead of actually in the circle. Whenever I see people with close families I just get an impulse to ask, I guess.” He stops, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, this ain’t a therapist’s office. Also sorry if I pried too much. I like to tug your chain but not in that sort of area.”

“Nah, It’s fine,” dismisses Lovino as he downs half his own drink. He kicks back as well, letting his feet sit on the table as he pushes further into the couch cushions. They sit in silence for a minute before he looks back to his guest. “Why do you call me mafioso?”

He seems to debate this for a little. “Mm… I watched  _ The Godfather _ the night before I ran into you. Must’ve just been on my mind. You look a little like Tony, so I figured it’d be funny. Does it piss you off?”

“Yes,” Lovino replies immediately.

Eduard only smirks and finishes his macchiato. “Good, I’m trying to.”

* * *

 

One begrudging weekend marathon of the entire  _ Godfather _ series later, Lovino is on his lunch break when he finds himself in the diner again. Usually he fixes his own lunch or buys something from the employee vending machines, but he got a good bonus since his last paycheck and he feels like treating himself.

What isn’t a treat, however, is the fact that of all the waiters to be working that day, he gets stuck with the one he least wants.

“Hello, mafioso,” Eduard says in a falsely cheery voice. Even after Lovino shoots him a glare, he keeps up the grin. “Didn’t know you missed me that much. Should I come over again?”

“Buzz off,” Lovino replies. When the blonde begins to walk away without taking his order, he calls after him and grumbles an apology when he comes back into earshot. He’s regarded with a teasing look and it makes him want to get up in leave. When he moves to do so, Eduard stops him and he heaves a sigh of defeat and sits down again.

Eduard takes his order and wanders back behind the counter to call it to the kitchen before wandering off to his other tables. Even as he waits on others, his eyes continue to flick back to Lovino and it makes something burn in his stomach that most definitely isn’t the coffee he’s drinking. It pisses him off so he begins to look anywhere but where his waiter is. Even after avoiding his gaze, he still feels it on him and it makes him shudder.

Luckily for him, he finishes his lunch quickly and pays just as quickly. Before he can get out the door, Lovino feels an arm catch his and when he sees how pale the fingers are compared to his skin, he curses under his breath. Of course it’s Eduard who he sees when he turn around. The waiter is holding up the check.

“You forgot this.”

“Like hell I did, I paid you!” Lovino blows air out through his nose. “I even gave you the twenty percent tip despite not exactly being able to afford such generosity. Don’t push it.” Before he can protest any further, the paper is pushed into his hands and Eduard smiles at him.

“Just hold onto that,” he says. He holds up a finger and winks playfully, making Lovino’s heart do an uncomfortable flip in his chest. His lips twist and he looks expectantly at the man. Eduard’s teasing grin mellows into what seems to be a sincere one, his eyes softening as well. “Just trust me on this, okay? Keep that with you and look at the back of it when you get home, okay?”

Lovino, regrettably, listens to Eduard.

There’s a hurriedness to his pace when Lovino walks home from work that evening. He takes the stairs two at a time to his apartment, his heart doing the same uncomfortable flips in his chest from earlier. He fumbles for a minute with his keys and almost locks his cat out when he opens the door. Once he secures the animal, he throws his keys on the kitchen island and flops onto his couch.

He hesitates. His hand is in his pocket, gripping the check from the diner that afternoon. A now-familiar genuine smile and easy blue gaze fill his mind and he chews hard on his lip. This is troublesome; Lovino’s had crushes on people before, but he’s never pursued any of them. More often than not he got approached by people in the past and he reciprocated the feelings for however long they lasted. His record is a four month relationship with a cute blonde guy with glasses (that one, however, was definitely louder and more outgoing than Eduard, loved fast food a little too much as well). It irritates him to admit, even just to himself, that he might have a type.

Regardless, he fishes the check out of his pocket and stares at the front of it. From the light behind it, he can vaguely make out pen scribblings on the back and he inhales sharply. For all he knows, this could just be a snide comment. Honestly, it probably is. Eduard admitted flat out that he enjoys pissing him off, so this is probably just another instance of it disguised as something sincere. Settling himself confidently into this conclusion, he turns the check over.

_ Maggiano’s. 7pm this Saturday. Wear something nice, mafioso. My treat. _

He stares.

And stares.

And stares.

“Did I just get asked out?” he questions his cat. It stares at him and flicks its tail lazily. He looks right back at the cat before glancing back down at the words on the back of the check. The handwriting is neat, somewhat loopy, very neat. Very befitting of its owner. He runs a thumb over the words and squints to make sure he isn’t seeing things. The words are still there. Now a deep blush coats his face and he sinks low in the couch, covering his face to avoid the gazes of absolutely nobody. He stays in the position so long his cat begins to push against him as if it’s concerned for him. He pets behind its ears gently, staring out the window on the wall to his right.

“But… I don’t even  _ own _ a suit.”

In response to his complaint, his cat meows.

* * *

 

After an embarrassing call to Feliciano (who obsesses  _ way too much _ over the prospect of his older brother going on a date), Lovino acquires a suit. Since he and Feliciano have a similar enough body type, it fits him with minor complaints. His biggest complaint though is that it’s too bright. Turning in his body mirror, he scowls at the back of the suit.

It’s a light grey color which he doesn’t mind. What he does mind is the fact that it doesn’t come with a suit jacket and underneath it, Feliciano decided a light pink dress shirt and tie would be the best match. While he never has had qualms about wearing the color, he just doesn’t prefer it. A voice in the back of his mind quips that the only reason he’s picky about his appearance today is because he has a date. While it’s true, he still hates the thought and suppresses it. He straightens out the tie and shirt cuffs one last time before glancing at his watch.

A walk to the restaurant would take half an hour, and a bus ride ten minutes. He makes sure his metro card is in his wallet as well as enough money to split the bill and double checks that he put down food for his cat before he unlocks his door and opens it.

He doesn’t have a chance to rehearse what he’s going to say when he arrives because on his doorstep in a suit complete with jacket is his date for the evening. In complete surprise and like an idiot, Lovino lets out a noise and stumbles back into his apartment.

Eduard isn’t perturbed at all. His lips raise up in a half-smirk, but otherwise he simply extends a hand. “You look good,” he says, and it sends a warm shudder up Lovino’s spine. He grumbles and smooths his hair down, eyeing the offered hand cautiously. “What? It won’t bite unless you want it to.” He pointedly ignores the implications behind that and all but snatches Eduard’s hand into his own. The first thing that surprises him is how soft his hand is, and the surprise makes him let go. Eduard looks at him evenly but doesn’t attempt to retake his hand, instead motioning for Lovino to follow him.

In an attempt to fill the silence as they make their way down the stairs, Lovino says, “I thought you said we’d meet at Maggiano’s.”

Eduard waits until they’re at the bottom of the stairs before answering. “I did, but then I figured it’s rude to make you pay your way there when I invited you. So instead of that, I’ll drive you.” It makes logical enough sense, but it still fuels embarrassment in his stomach. Lovino’s so used to directing dates and picking up his partners that now, confronted with the opposite situation of being picked up and being directed, he’s unsure. It’s new territory to explore with somebody he’s certain would not let any fumbles of his go unnoticed.

“You coming?” Eduard calls. He’s standing next to a modest silver four-door on the passenger side. As soon as Lovino’s close enough, he opens the passenger door and nods towards the seat.  _ He’s holding my door open _ ?! Lovino bites his lip slightly and avoids eye contact, muttering a thank you as he slides in. He looks up in time to see a bit of a flush in the paler man’s face, but he could have just imagined it. His door is shut and a few seconds later Eduard himself gets into the car.

The drive is relatively quiet. An occasional chat comes up but otherwise Eduard focuses on the road and Lovino on the passing shops. The sky is just fading to the perfect mixture of darkness combined with the sunset and he half-smiles as he watches the buildings roll by. He likes the evening a lot. He hardly recognizes when the restaurant comes into view, so busy staring at the scenery, but Eduard’s gentle shove into his shoulder rouses him albeit with an annoyed look shot at the blonde man.

Lovino moves to open his door but he’s stopped. His eyes follow Eduard cautiously, his face subtly heating up when he realizes he is, once again, going to provide door service. He accepts it and once standing asks, “Why are you so polite now but such a godforsaken asshole in day to day life?”

Eduard snickers, shutting the door. “It’s part of my charm, mafioso.”

Lovino wants to retort about the tech having absolutely  _ zero _ charm, but he’s ushered along to the door before he can speak. He files the remark away for another time and nods as a thank you when Eduard opens the tall oak door for him. As grateful as he is for being treated so nicely, he still feels a twinge in his gut about being serviced so much. When the maitre-d leads them to their table, Lovino pulls back the chair and gives Eduard a pointed look. Bemused, his companion takes the offered seat with a thank you. As soon as Lovino himself sits down, the maitre-d places their menus down and flashes a polite smile.

Maggiano’s is a bit fancier than the places Lovino usually eats out at. His favorite spots are the diner where he met his date, the cafe he chatted with his brother at, and a few small mom-and-pop Italian bistros scattered across the city. Maggiano’s has good food, much better than that cursed Olive Garden, but it’s just a little out of his price range. Given this though, he wonders exactly how much money Eduard has to spare to throw around at what could just be an elaborate prank.

And for some reason, Lovino hopes it isn’t one.

“How do you like your wine? Bianco or rosso?” His head shoots up when he hears Eduard speak.  _ Did- did he just attempt Italian _ ? Lovino studies his for a few seconds before his lips quirk up.

“You’re pronunciation is horrid,” he says, “but I prefer  _ rosso _ .” He throws emphasis on the word in an attempt to correct Eduard. The man across from him tries it again, but he still can’t formulate the word right. In the middle of him laughing at the attempt, the blonde rolls his eyes and waves his hand to dismiss the topic. Lovino, not wanting to drop it and innately desiring to show off, speaks again. “Well, we just proved you’re horrible at Italian, so throw it back at me.”

“Hm?” Eduard tilts his head.

Lovino rests an elbow on the table, propping his chin up. “Don’t you speak another language? Most people these days do. Give me white and red in that language and I’ll attempt them.”

Eduard looks at him evenly for a few seconds before he laughs and shakes his head. Even after their waiter stops by and takes their drink orders, Lovino still fixes him with an expectant gaze. Eduard raises a brow and sighs good-naturedly. “You’re serious, hm?”

Lovino takes a drink of his wine and nods. “Always. Lay it on me.”

A glint in his eye, Eduard says, “Valge and punane- shut up, I know that sounds dirty!” He rolls his eyes at the snicker Lovino barely holds back. He takes a drink of his own water (“Somebody has to drive,” his only explanation for passing on the wine) and clears his throat. His attempt to remain serious is ruined by his own childish grin. “Try ‘em.”

Lovino stumbles his way through the first word, groaning when Eduard covers his mouth to hide the smirk. The second word is a little too hard for his tongue to process so he gives up and says something akin to baby gibberish. He scowls and tells his date to shut up but he’s smiling a little when he does so the threat doesn’t follow through.

At one point during their evening, Lovino catches sight of a bandage wrapped around Eduard’s left wrist. It obscures where his soulmate-identifying words would lay and he can’t help but feel curious about it. When he swallows the last bite of his dinner, he waits for his date to clear his plate before he speaks up.

“Oh, this?” Eduard pulls the cuff of his suit jacket down to expose the white material. He grins lopsidedly, seemingly carefree. “Sprained my wrist a few days ago. Doctor said if I wrapped it up enough it’d be fine, so I did. Don’t worry about it- aw, you’re worried about me?” His grin swaps from carefree to teasing and now Lovino scowls and rolls his eyes.

“In your dreams, Steve Jobs.”

“Hey now!” Eduard laughs along with Lovino. “You know my name now, so use it.”

The tanned man raises his brows in a mocking gesture. “You want me to use your name when you can’t even use mine? Fuck off.” He winces when he remembers the public setting, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t heard. Nobody seems to be looking at them so he drops it.

Eduard, however, is grinning at him again. “Fine, I can use your name.”

After the waiter comes by to pick up the bill (which Eduard forcefully insists he’s to pay for by himself, making Lovino again feel both grateful for the generosity and bothered by being waited on), once they’re outside, Lovino steps in front of Eduard and stops him from proceeding more than a few steps from the restaurant’s doors. When he gets a curious look, he smirks.

“Say my name,” Lovino demands.

Eduard meets his eyes with his own smirk. Before Lovino can react, warm lips brush against his own and a soft exhale tickles his face when those same lips part and a gentle, “Lovino,” escapes them.

Eduard doesn’t have time to pull back and walk away because Lovino’s hands are on his shoulders and he’s pulling them together for another kiss.

* * *

 

Five months into their relationship, Eduard still won’t let Lovino look at the words underneath the bandage around his wrist. It’s been far too long for his initial claim of a sprain to be true and the secretive manner in which he keeps the bandaging on at all times around anybody at all makes curiosity and bitterness boil in his stomach.

_ Does he not trust me _ ? Lovino stares from the couch, holding the empty bowl of popcorn as he watches Eduard through the doorway to the kitchen. His boyfriend is leaning on the kitchen island, hands resting flat on the surface. His left side is facing Lovino, giving him a clear view of the bandaged wrist. It’s always on his left wrist; it’s never on his right.

The most innocent guess he can figure as to why the skin stays protected is Eduard has an embarrassing tattoo, keeping it bandaged to avoid mockery or disdainful looks. It seems reasonable enough, but the only deterrent from that possibility is the fact that a tattoo on the left wrist would cover up his soulmate-identifying words, so it’s likely not that. Maybe skin imperfections? Eduard isn’t completely blemish-free and frankly neither is Lovino, but if that’s the case then wouldn’t he be just as concerned about the blemishes and imperfections on his right wrist, his face, all over his day to day visible body? With that conclusion, he tosses skin imperfections out the window.

By the time Eduard sits down next to him with a new bag of popcorn, Lovino still has no idea what could possibly be the reason the blonde is so adamant about hiding his wrist.

“What’re you thinking about?” Eduard asks him as he pulls up the next episode of the show they’re watching on his laptop. The light reflects off his glasses and makes his eyes impossible to see.

Lovino half-smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing really.”  _ Everything, actually _ . As the episode begins, his wandering mind tunes it out to continue to ponder Eduard’s hidden skin. Maybe he’s similar to Kiku? His high school friend used to be horribly embarrassed at the idea of soulmates and falling in love that he would wear gloves, bracelets, hair scrunchies, anything to obscure the words and keep them hidden. It took three years of coaxing before the Japanese teen finally gave in to the pressure and allowed everybody to see the words on his wrist. Perhaps Eduard has the same sort of embarrassment when it comes to the topic?

By now, he’s seen the words on Lovino’s wrist countless times but he’s never said a word about them. If anything, he ignores the fact that the soulmates thing exists in their lives and that it doesn’t particularly matter. Lovino doesn’t mind, and in fact he’s thankful his boyfriend is so lax about the topic. After years of stressing about it, and stressing even worse when Feliciano beat him to the punch of finding his soulmate, he’s glad that his now-longest relationship has no pressure in it when it comes to the topic. Even with all of his old partners, the topic eventually came up that their words didn’t match and they wouldn’t be together forever, and that they’re dating to fill the void and prepare for their eventual soulmate. The chatter bothered Lovino to the core, and perhaps contributed to the fact that he’s avoided dating in the past few years. Even since leaving high school, he hasn’t been on a date once until Eduard asked him out via the check. He shakes his head at the fond memory and attempts to refocus on the show.

By the time he does come back to Earth, he sees the program has been paused and blue eyes have fixed him in an interested gaze. Lovino raises a brow and asks, “What? Why’d you pause? I was watching that.”

“You weren’t, actually,” replies Eduard. He sets the laptop on the coffee table along with the bowl of popcorn and he leans back into the cushions. “You seem to be thinking about something.”

Lovino shrugs half-heartedly and glances at the laptop. All of his previous attempts to get Eduard to tell him about the bandage and what lies underneath it have failed and he knows if he brings it up now, he would get more dodging answers. So instead, he goes another route that he briefly thought about.

“I was thinking about Feli.”

“Oh? Worried about how his adoption thing is going?” Lovino nods a little, hoping the idea is enough to convince his intuitive boyfriend. Eduard regards him with a slight sympathetic smile and nudges their shoulders together. “It’ll go smoothly. Don’t sweat it too much. Anything else going on?”

“Uh,” Lovino looks up at the ceiling, “well, I guess there’s more to it. About Feli, that is. I’m kind of… you’ve met him before, so you know how he is. And I’m sort of- I’m- fuck if I know how to word it. I feel pathetic?” He ends it in a questioning tone and takes in Eduard’s reaction. He’s studying Lovino right back and he gestures for him to keep speaking. “I guess I feel pathetic, yeah. Feli did all the impressive life shit before me and it makes me feel kinda stupid. I’m the older brother and he’s off getting engaged and adopting a kid and looking for a house, y’know? I should be doing that, and I’m just-”

“You’re more than impressive,” says Eduard suddenly. His head is tilted, bangs falling in his eyes and the tanned man flushes slightly at how pretty he looks. Even in the uncomplimentary glow of the laptop light, he looks stunning and it makes Lovino forget what they’re talking about. Eduard’s mouth perks up in a grin and he leans a little closer. “No offense to your brother, but I like to think I landed the most handsome of the Vargas family. You’re witty and smart, and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve seen.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere,” Lovino mutters through an increasing fluster.

“Flattery may not get me anywhere but the truth will get me places. And it’s the truth when I say your inferiority towards Feliciano is misplaced.” Eduard reaches up and while Lovino wants to jerk back, he stays in place. Soft fingertips brush along his cheek and grip his chin, keeping their eyes locked when he speaks again. “I don’t have any siblings, and I hardly have any family. I’ve told you this before, and I realize I don’t fully understand what you feel. But I want to let you know that even if you feel like this towards him, you don’t need to. You have a job, you have friends in Emma and her group,” Lovino blinks in surprise when he remembers the trio of friends he hangs out with, “and you have the  _ handsomest _ boyfriend ever, if I do say so myself.” Eduard chuckles under his breath when he leans forward and brushes his lips to Lovino’s forehead.

His eyes stay downcast from shame at feeling so weak in front of his boyfriend, but mostly from embarrassment at hearing such things. Lovino pulls back a little but the fingers on his chin tighten just enough to keep him there. When his eyes turn up, his blush darkens at the gentle look he’s being given. The fingers on his chin slide back to push some hair behind his ear and his palm presses against Lovino’s cheek, making the heated skin even warmer. Eduard checks quietly with a look to make sure Lovino feels alright (he feels  _ way more _ than alright) before he leans forward again and brushes a kiss against Lovino’s lips.

By the time the sparks die down in Lovino’s stomach, he forgets all about what he was thinking about before the intimate moment, his thumb absently stroking over the bandage on Eduard’s wrist. He slowly dozes off and misses the tense look on the blonde’s face everytime he rubs across the bandage.

* * *

 

Their seven month anniversary comes faster than either realize.

Along with it comes something hard to swallow.

They stay in this time. Eduard’s suggestion, as he doesn’t feel up to spending the day in public. “No, it’s not because I’m married to my laptop,” he retorts to Lovino’s snide remark, though he flashes a smile. “It’s because I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Those words could mean anything and it makes Lovino’s heart skip in a way he can’t place. Eduard smiles when he said the words, so it can’t be anything bad, can it? Then again they’ve been together for enough time for him to know that everything his boyfriend says is not ultimately true, and that behind his titanium frames lies a smooth-talking liar that easily weasels his way out of confrontation. He sees it as both a positive and negative trait, and when he asked Eduard about it all he received was a cryptic smile and half-shrug to indicate he didn’t care how Lovino views the trait.

Lovino sinks into the couch beside him, watching with a subdued grin as Eduard shuts the lid of the laptop and sets it on the coffee table. He picks up his mug of tea and takes a drink, humming in satisfaction at the taste. Lovino rests his chin in his hands as he watches the blonde man, patiently waiting on whatever it is he has to discuss on such an occasion. As he waits, he ponders.

They’ve been together a decent amount of time, enough for Lovino to consider his boyfriend a regular part of his life. He flushes bright red when his mind immediately jumps to a proposal, and he almost burns alive when his mind also concludes he wouldn’t mind the idea at all.

For all his smartassness, his coy avoidance of certain topics, his unapologetic air when he makes mistakes, his internet addiction… okay, so Eduard has a lot of negatives. But in Lovino’s mind, the positives make up for all of them. He’s attentive to the tone and mood, remembers important dates and appointments and holidays, his smooth-talking even in lies being in just the right tone to send a shiver up Lovino’s spine, his affection for animals, the way his eyes light up when he talks about all his tech babble despite it flying over Lovino’s head, how soft his fingertips are when he takes Lovino’s chin between them and brings them close enough for him to feel how equally soft his lips are, the warmth in his voice when he calls him Lovi.

He’s so lost in thought, biting his lip, that when he comes to he’s met with an annoyed brow raise and fingers tapping on the table impatiently. He huffs and runs a hand through his hair, embarrassed. “Fuck, uh, sorry about that. I got lost in my head.”

“I noticed,” Eduard replies with a soft chuckle. A silence falls between them. Lovino’s leg unconsciously begins to bounce and he notices a small change in the blonde’s expression. His smile, previously a tad annoyed and mostly warm affection, now has a melancholy feeling to it. His eyes are slightly more narrowed and he breathes a little deeper. “Do you remember what I first said to you?”

A silly question. Lovino smiles gently and raises his left wrist, flashing the imprinted words. “This, right? Are you losing your memory or something, ya bastard? Do you need a doctor’s appointment?” They share a laugh but it’s incredibly clear that Eduard’s isn’t genuine. Lovino drops his smile and studies his boyfriend again, seeing the subtle sadness behind the soft smile and gentle eyes. Worry sparks in his stomach and ignites when Eduard speaks again.

“It’s… what I’m gonna say is not easy.”

Instantly he feels his heart stop in the bad way. If he had been eating, it would have caught in his throat and he would have choked. He’s aware that his eyes widen and panic must sprawl all over his face because Eduard immediately drops his attempt at a smile and reaches forward, resting one hand on Lovino’s shoulder and the other on the side of his face. As tempting as it is to lean into the touch, he resists and grabs the man’s wrists, pulling them down so their hands rest in each other’s laps.

“What?”

Eduard averts his eyes for a fraction of a second, seemingly debating in his head if he should continue. Lovino scans his face for any hint as to what’s wrong. One thought, right in the back of his mind, is constant.  _ Please don’t say we’re breaking up _ .

With a deep inhale and quick exhale, Eduard shakes his head and the smile he smiles when he’s trying to keep a positive mood appears. All it does is make Lovino’s eyebrows furrow in worry. His boyfriend drops the smile when he sees this, now looking remarkably vulnerable. He pulls his left wrist out of Lovino’s grasp and raises it. The bandage against his skin stands out and he gestures to it with a slight nod.

“Take that off.”

His shoulders stiffen and Lovino regrets every bit of curiosity he’s had about the words underneath it. The words that would finally confirm that they are soulmates. He locks eyes with Eduard, asking quietly if he’s serious. He just receives a small smile in return, but it doesn’t reach those pretty blue eyes he’s come to love and in the backs of Lovino’s own eyes, he feels the beginning sting of tears. It’s with shaky hands he grasps Eduard’s wrist and thumbs over the bandage. He squeezes a little, forcing himself to smile.

“I swear to God if you’re pulling shit with me, I’m breaking up with you.” He doesn’t laugh at his own joke and neither does Eduard. His boyfriend’s lips draw into a thin line and his eyes fall to the floor. When Lovino begins pulling the bandage back, he swears he hears a sniffle.

Eduard’s skin is unmarked.

It’s completely flawless. No blemishes, no freckles, no scars. Perfectly smooth.

Including no words.

Lovino runs his thumb over the skin and looks at Eduard in confusion. There are no words on his wrist. But there are words on everybody’s wrists. He looks between the clear skin and his boyfriend’s face several times, trying to find an explanation in silence. His mouth hangs open slightly, caught in unspoken questions. Almost forcefully, he rubs against the skin to test a theory. When no makeup comes away on his thumb, he trashes the idea that this is a joke done in poor humor. The pain behind Eduard’s fake smile is evidence enough he isn’t trying to pull anything.

“Where-?” Lovino shakes his head and looks back to Eduard’s eyes. “Where’s your words?”

Chuckling almost bitterly, Eduard pulls his wrist out of Lovino’s grip and he mutters, “Never had any.”

“Everybody has them.”

“I’m not everybody.”

Of all the things to feel in this situation, he falls back on the one that’s supported him most of his life: anger. He clenches his fists and lightly scowls at the blonde. “Stop bullshitting me. What are your words?”

“I’m not-” He bites his tongue and ruffles his hair. “I’m being serious, Lovi. I don’t have any.”

“Everybody has them,” he insists. Lovino crosses his arms and gives Eduard a hard stare. “I have them, feli has them, Emma and her brothers and my coworkers have them, so  _ you _ should have them too. If they aren’t on your wrist, they’re probably on your body somewhere. Maybe you just haven’t-”

“I have,” Eduard interrupts through gritted teeth. The frustration on his face is new and it almost makes Lovino scared. Not for his safety, but because it looks so wrong on his geeky boyfriend. “I’ve look all over several times. I don’t have any words, Lovi. Believe me, I looked. And I looked. And I don’t have any.” He points at Lovino’s wrist where his own words sit. “Logically, that means what’s on there isn’t- it doesn’t have any relevance to us.”

That sends a stabbing pain through his chest and Lovino’s arms fall. His angered expression mellows out and he bites his lip. A lump forms in his throat but he dares not think about it lest it becomes worse. “But what you said matches what’s on here, so it-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Eduard’s snort is bitter and out of place, and when he notices just how hurt Lovino looks he relaxes. “Sorry, sorry I don’t mean to sound so… It’s just something I’ve come to accept and I made a mistake. I led you on to think we’re soulmates and- God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag it out like this.”

“But it matches,” Lovino manages to whisper. The lump in his throat still won’t go away no matter how many times he swallows and the dryness of his mouth is a stark contrast to how wet his eyes feel. No matter how many times he searches Eduard’s eyes, the answer doesn’t change. “It matches. You are.”

One pale hand reaches up and gently encircles Lovino’s wrist. He doesn’t pull away, just sits there holding him and staring. Pathetically, he offers a smile. “I know it does,” he says. “What I said to you that day does match what’s on your wrist. I did say that to you and I know you believe with all your heart that those words mean everything to you no matter how many times you ever insisted they’re jackshit in the long run. I know that, but it’s unfair of me to do that to you.”

“Unfair?” asks Lovino.

“It’s unfair of me to trap you.” Eduard doesn’t meet his eyes anymore. “I don’t have a soulmate. I don’t know what kind of fucked up world we live in to offer this scenario but we live in it and it’s real and it’s so unfair to you. Listen, Lovi,” the fingers around his wrist tighten, “I am not lying to you when I say that I really think I love you. I never lied about that, not from the first moment I thought it up to this very moment now. Nothing’s going to change that, even this. But you have to realize that just because what  _ I _ said to you matches doesn’t mean that what somebody  _ else _ says to you won’t match.

“I’m a… I don’t have a soulmate. I’m never going to be able to live that life everybody else has. It’s pure coincidence I managed to say what’s on your wrist. There’s probably been scenarios where people have said what’s on other people’s wrists by accident or coincidence and it’s lead to deep misunderstandings. By the time I realized I did that to you, we were already together. I didn’t- just breaking up with you so soon after seemed too cruel, so I stayed. I stayed too long and like an idiot who actually has a chance at happiness I fell in love with this handsome mafioso I quite literally bumped into by mistake and now I can’t let him go despite it being the right thing to do.”

All Lovino can think to say is, “But what if it isn’t a coincidence?”

Eduard smiles half-heartedly. “What if it isn’t?”

“Don’t play with me over this!” Lovino tugs his wrist out of Eduard’s grip and fixes him with a hard glare. “This isn’t a damn joke, and if it is your humor is way more twisted than you ever led on, you… you shiteating bastard.” The insult rolls weakly off his tongue and his head hangs heavy, staring at his own lap. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “What if it isn’t a coincidence, though? What if you really are-”

“That,” interrupts Eduard, “is exactly why this is unfair to you. It’s unfair of me to keep you in this relationship because while I might be meant for you, I don’t have somebody who’s meant for me. If I keep you in this relationship, if I don’t let you go now and let you have just a chance at happiness with somebody else, I never will.” He smiles weakly. “I love you. I don’t want to let you go but it’s the best thing I can do for you.”

“But- wait!” Lovino’s hands shoot up to rest on his shoulders, catching Eduard off-guard if his brief jump is any indication. “Wait a minute, I just- fucking hell.” He glances at the dull wallpaper, studying the imperfections as he grasps for something to say. “Let’s say you’re right, and this is just a one-sided arrangement by the bastard that concocted the soulmate thing. Or that my soulmate is somebody else and you just happened to say the same thing. Let’s just assume you’re right for now.

“What if… ugh, what if I’d rather ignore it? It was a pain in the ass staying single, watching my friends and coworkers and every random person I met find their soulmate. Get engaged. Settle down. Be successful. It was a  _ damn _ pain in the ass waiting for somebody to say what’s on my wrist. I don’t wanna wait again. Can’t we just ignore your wrist?” His forehead is now resting on Eduard’s shoulder, his eyes burning from holding back tears. He doesn’t want to cry in front of him. He’s too strong for that. “Can’t you love me regardless, and can’t I-” He bites his tongue. He’s never said it before, and he doesn’t want to say it now. Not when things are falling apart.

He’s surprised when familiar arms wrap around his shoulders and a chin sits atop his head. His surprise causes him to stiffen, reflexively jerk back. The arms trap him there, ear pressed against a broad chest which lets him hear just how hard his boyfriend’s heart is beating. Lovino can’t do anything but sit there, quiet, allowing the hug. Soon enough he raises his own arms and wraps them around Eduard’s torso loosely. They stay together for several minutes.

Lovino breaks the silence. “Do you have to…?”

“Yes,” answers Eduard.

A beat passes before Lovino pulls back just enough to press his lips chastely to his boyfriend’s. He averts his eyes to keep from crying at the pained smile he receives. “You know I-”

“I do.” He leans in and gives Lovino a brief kiss as well. Despite the situation’s tone, he manages to laugh a little which draws a confused look from the smaller man. “And I love you too, Lovi.”

In the middle of a final kiss, Eduard mutters, “Always will,” into Lovino’s mouth, both of them ignoring how salty the tears make it.

* * *

 

All it takes to shut Antonio up is an annoyed swat.

Still, he laughs loudly and ruffles the Italian’s hair despite the threat of his hand’s dismemberment. Antonio leans back in the booth, his grin even louder than the shared laughs from across the diner’s table. Emma and João regard them with amusement and warm smiles, her pale fingers standing a stark contrast against his tanned ones.

Turns out hanging out with Emma’s group of friends has done wonders for Lovino’s social life, and shook up her and her friends’.

“Y’know,” she speaks up, catching Antonio’s and Lovino’s attention, “I’m still laughing a lot about how this stuff all worked out. All because I made Lovino give me his number when I went shopping and chatted to him so much!” She giggles something of a nostalgic whine, waving when Antonio shoots her a jokingly annoyed look. “It  _ is _ funny though, Toni!”

“Ay, it is,” he agrees, nodding at his ex-girlfriend, “but it’s equally irritating to know fate led you to being my brother’s soulmate. As if the world was telling me I wasn’t good enough for you and João had to pick up my slack. Still,” he grins fondly, “I am happy to know I’m the one that introduced you two. Makes me happy to know I contributed to matching a pair of soulmates.”

“What about me?” Emma asks, pointing an accusing finger at Antonio. “I introduced you and Lovino. Doesn’t that count for something?” As if to accentuate her point, she gestures to Antonio’s wrist where the word  _ “Bastard!” _ is printed in a deep black. He looks over the word curiously for a few seconds before he shakes his head and agrees with her.

Lovino tunes out, distracted. How could he not be?

When he glances up and behind the diner’s counter, he sees an all too familiar man and his chest swells painfully. He doesn’t hear when Antonio asks him something, instead having to be poked in the cheek. He responds with a snap of his teeth and an aggressive, “What?!”

Soft green eyes stare back at him. Antonio’s easygoing smile should inspire comfort in him. Should. All it does is make an uncomfortable pit swell in his stomach, causing him to look away and stare out the diner’s window. He puts on a pout to make it appear he’s simply annoyed, something not uncommon for him that nobody at the table would question. It works well enough because the two brothers and Emma pick up in a conversation without him. It’s easy to tune them out. What he can’t tune out is the feeling of being watched. He bites his lip, hoping the physical pain of his teeth would outweigh the emotional pain.

It doesn’t.

His eyes dart to the counter of the diner, immediately locking with blue ones. He shouldn’t feel this way after a year, but he does. If the way Eduard is staring back at him is any hint, he feels the exact same as well. Weakly, the blonde offers him a half-smile. Lovino can’t bare to return it and he turns back to look out the window.

Eduard was wrong. It wasn’t a coincidence. Antonio’s the coincidence. Antonio accidentally said the words on his wrist upon their first meeting, but neither a spark nor deep want appear in his chest like it apparently did for the Spaniard. The only aftershock spark after an initial meeting he’s ever had was with Eduard. It  _ had _ to have been real. It  _ has _ to be real still because everytime either of them catch each other’s gaze across the diner, Lovino’s chest tightens and all he wants is to be with him again.

He doesn’t feel like this with Antonio. He never has. He just believed and tried and hoped that maybe the memories of bumping into a smartass in this diner would go away. They’re still just as clear as the day he acquired them. He tried to hope that Eduard was right, that they really weren’t supposed to be together, but it’s one year later and all he can do when Antonio slings an arm around his shoulder and kisses his cheek is shovel the guilt in his stomach down long enough to reprimand his boyfriend in his usual angry tone. He tries his damndest to ignore the downcast look on Eduard’s face when it happens.

If the words of his and Antonio’s wrists are to be believed, Lovino has found his soulmate. He’s finally found the perfect match for him like Feliciano did in high school. He should be just as happy, just as warm, just as satisfied as his younger brother. Just as hopeful for a happy future. Just as excited about an eventual engagement, just as excited about the wedding, just as excited as he was the day Eduard asked him out.

All dating Antonio makes him is nostalgic for blue eyes and blonde hair and late nights watching illegally uploaded movies on a too small laptop in a too cramped apartment with too buttery popcorn. All he wants is the past and when Lovino looks up and catches Eduard’s eyes again, he feels the past come back to life if but for one second and legitimate happiness flashes across his face and he feels like a hopeless romantic caught in a romance novel telling the story of his forbidden love.

When Eduard smiles back at him, Lovino blushes and stares out the window.

_ “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” _

_ Mafioso will never stop noticing you, Steve Jobs. Never. _


	2. Eduard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is... a lot shorter than intended but I've been sitting on it and I don't know what to add to it so I'll throw it up. Here's Eduard's side of the soulmate story. I'm still fucking depressed.

The endless ringing of his cell phone jerks Eduard awake. Flopping uselessly on the side table, his hand finally locates his phone and presses the answer button. When he places it against his ear and groans a low complaint about being woken up, he gets a snappy, “Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” in return. For the first time today, he opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, exhaling loudly for the person on the other end of the line to hear.

“Hi, Feliks.” He pushes himself up into a sitting position in bed, swapping the phone to the other ear as he glances at his clock. Bitterly, he registers it’s about six thirty in the morning. “What do you want?”

“That’s so rude of you, Eddie,” Feliks complains right back, though he abandons the annoyed tone almost instantly. Damn morning people and their cheery morning people personalities. “Elizabeta called in and quit, so I need you to fill in her schedule until we get a replacement. You can do that, can’t you?”

Eduard hums low in his throat and rubs at his eyes. “I don’t know, can I?” Feliks snorts on the other end, and he grins to nobody in particular. “Fine, I’ll be in this morning. Why did Liz quit, by the way?”

The line is quiet for a second, but through the speaker a door shuts (based on its squeakiness, the door to the employee lounge) and Feliks drops his voice below a whisper. In his sleepiness he has to strain to hear what he says next. “Rumor has it she met the one. He’s like, super rich and stuff so my guess is she quit because she doesn’t need to work with all his bank. Aren’t I totally jealous, hah!” With his morning person cheer, he laughs so loudly that Eduard has to pull the phone away from his ear, wincing. When he puts it back, Feliks continues. “Aaaaanyway, you need to be in by, I dunno… probably half past seven.”

“Can’t you ask Emma to fill in? It’s not like she-”

“She quit too, remember? Works at that waffle house now.” Feliks sniffs, haughty. “As if _their_ breakfast is any better than mine! Well, maybe now it is because she’s their star chef, but whatever. You agreed to fill in, so make sure your rear end is in here by then. Bye!” The line clicks and dialtone meets his ears before he hangs up himself.

In by half past seven, huh? Time flied from the phone call, and now when he looks at the clock it shows it’s almost seven. If he walks to work, it’ll take twenty minutes to get there. If he takes his car, five minutes given traffic isn’t a bitch. Then again, traffic is always a bitch so it’d probably take more like ten minutes. If he takes the world’s fastest shower he can snooze for another few minutes, but he hates quick showers so begrudgingly he kicks the covers off his legs and swings them around to stand up. He stops in the kitchen first and flips the coffee pot on; even if he works at a diner, their coffee isn’t that good, nothing like the brand he brews from home.

By the time his shower is over, his coffee is ready and he pours a quick mug. He never makes much, enough for a cup before setting off for work, but he sits and savors it like it’s the last cup he’ll ever have. He grabs a snack bar from a cabinet and sticks it between his lips. One hand holds his coffee as the other opens his bedroom door.

He sets the mug down on the side table and grabs his work shoes, taking a bite out of the snack bar, still holding the remainder of it between his lips. He secures his laces and opens the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a box of bandages. He rips one open and rolls up his work uniform’s left sleeve, revealing his bare wrist. Gently, he places it onto the smooth skin and secures all of its corners down to assure it won’t come off, and nobody can see under it. When he’s satisfied, he grabs the mug of coffee and snack bar and stands up, leaving his bedroom.

As he leaves, the brush of air from him standing blows the bandage packaging off the bedside table and onto the floor. It lands on top of countless other bandage wrappers, like the cherry on top of a sundae.

* * *

 “So,” starts Feliks, setting his chin down in his palm, mouth curled up in a cat-like grin, “who’s the hottie you shoulder-checked coming in?”

Eduard glances up from tying his apron strings, eyebrow arched. “Hottie? More like nottie.” He laughs under his breath at his own joke, running a hand through his hair. “Nobody, just a jerk. Never seen him before today.” When he’s satisfied his apron will stay tied, he grabs his notepad and a pen and slides out from behind the counter.

Before he can leave, Feliks grabs his forearm from over the counter. “Hold up now, you!” Eduard gives him a stale look, and he rolls his eyes. “Cut that out and listen to me for once, huh? You always like to discount me, and it’s super annoying because, y’know, I’m your friend.”

“You’re Toris’ friend,” corrects Eduard, pulling his arm out of his grip. “Not explicitly mine.”

“What, so we aren’t friends?”

“We are. But I don’t appreciate you grabbing me and pushing me over some random mafioso.”

Feliks’ grin returns. “Oh, so you have a nickname for him?”

“I guess?” He shakes his head and starts towards a table, calling over his shoulder, “If you’re that curious, wait until my break.” He flips the notebook open and straightens out his posture, putting on a friendly smile as he approaches the duo in the booth. “Hello, my name’s Eduard and I’ll be serving you both today. What are we having?”

The girl on the left looks up at him from under long lashes, over the rim of her glasses, and points at one of the specialty coffees. “This, please.” Eduard scribbles the shorthand for the drink down. He catches a flash of words written on her wrist, slightly raising his brows but saying nothing more. “And you, Michelle?” Her eyes flick across the table to her companion, a darker-skinned girl with twintails. On the inside of her wrist, there’s another set of words. She looks absolutely puzzled at the choices, and after she sits thinking for too long the first girls interrupts and says, “A water for now, I guess.”

Eduard excuses himself from the table and goes to the counter, asking Feliks for the drinks as he walks towards another table of unattended to customers. He takes their orders much the same, moving on to a third table, a fourth, a fifth until his section is full and another waiter (the new kid, Raivis) starts to wait on the other tables. Periodically throughout his workday, for reasons unknown to him, he glances at the doorway. Whenever he does, an angry voice echoes in his head.

In passing, a customer mentions to his breakfast partner something about Steve Jobs. He glances at them for a split second, then moves on.

_“Sorry, I didn’t notice you.”_

Eduard chews on his lips and brushes his fingers over the bandage on his wrist. Probably just a mistake. Probably.

Hopefully.

* * *

The first thing he says to his landlord when he gets home is, “Please don’t throw me out.”

Mister Braginsky, all smiles that mean the exact opposite of what they appear, tilts his head childishly. “My, who said anything about that? I never did!” He all but giggles, and the stone sitting in Eduard’s gut sinks even lower. When Mister Braginsky is amused, he’s scary. He probably doesn’t mean it, but the tone of his voice when he inquires about rent, or late payments, or noise complaints he’s gotten is extremely unpleasant.

“Well, no. You never did, but your sister mentioned my last rent check didn’t go through.” Mentioned is a stretch; more like Miss Arlovskaya quite literally took a nail and hammer to his apartment door frame and hung the notice of his bounced check like a mark of shame. He still swears up and down he gets looks from his neighbor across the hall because of it. “I promise I’ll be able to pay the rent by the end of this week. I get my paycheck in a few days.”

“Mister von Bock, may I propose a situation to you?” With great hesitance, he nods. Mister Braginsky claps in delight. “Oh, very good! Now, my situation goes like this: I must pay my own dues, yes? My dues are due on specific dates much as yours and my sister’s and everybody else’s, yes? If you tell me ‘I’m sorry, I cannot pay dues now’, do you think I can pass on that you not paying your dues is an excuse for me not being able to afford mine?” Whether he intends to or not, a threatening aura radiates from every word he says and it makes Eduard gulp. “The answer is no! I need you to pay your rent so I can pay my dues, yes? Is that a fair statement?”

“Y-yes, I suppose.”

“Good, good! We are getting on the understanding level here, I see!” Mister Braginsky narrows his eyes a fraction, and surely he _has_ to be intentionally emitting such an intimidating aura. Nobody could do this without meaning to. “Please get your rent to me by the end of tomorrow, or you will have to vacate by the weekend, yes? Are you on the level of understanding with me, Mister von Bock?”

Meekly he nods, and Mister Braginsky waves as he goes, as if he’s an old friend leaving after an overdue visit. At this rate, his heart would much prefer a surprise visit from an old friend, like Tino. The back of his mind reminds him that Tino can’t visit him, he’s still on his honeymoon with his soulmate. He’ll be out of town for another month at the very least.

He opens the door to his apartment and ignores how his neighbor across the hall eyeballs him as he slips inside.

* * *

 Two weeks later, Eduard gets a call at work. It’s curious, he thinks. Nobody really calls him first, much less while he’s at work. He glances at Feliks from over the counter, and with a roll of his eyes he jerks his thumb towards the employee’s only room as a sort of temporary break to take care of the call. Eduard mouths a thank you as he speed walks through the door.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Eduard!” Tino’s voice greets him, and the nerves in his chest disappear. “I wanted to tell you I’m back from my honeymoon and it went great! How’s life been?”

He shrugs even though Tino can’t see it, slumping down on the rickety old couch. “Nothing new. You caught me at work.” He cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder, untying his shoelace to redo it. “Something important happen?”

“No, nothing dire.”

“How’s Berwald?” Eduard’s lips twist as he finishes up one shoe and starts the other. He purposefully ignores how much of a sting there is in his chest when he asks about Tino’s husband. That’s not his business to interrupt. After all, he didn’t match what’s written on his wrist. He has no business there.

Tino excitedly begins to blabber on, and Eduard occasionally hums to show he’s still listening. The chipping paint on the wall makes for more interesting stimulation than Tino’s lovesick chattering. He reaches out and scrapes his fingernail down the wall, pulling back and examining the chips under his nail as if they were modern art. In the back of his mind he snorts when he imagines himself as an artist. As if that could ever happen. The closest thing to art he can do is install Photoshop.

“- if it’d be fine for us to come over.”

He flicks the paint chips out from under his nail, raising a brow at nobody in particular. Tino wants to visit him? Opposing to it is the last thing on his mind, but then he catches the pronoun usage. Us. Tino wants to visit with Berwald. While he has no personal issues with the man, Eduard still finds him scary. He also stole Tino’s heart, but again that’s nothing he could have helped. The world works in mysteriously funky ways and this time it worked out that his best friend deserved somebody much better. Not that coming second isn’t already familiar to him.

“Eduard?”

“Oh, sorry Tino. My boss was talking to me.” It’s a white lie, but Tino never was any good at picking up on those. “Sure, you guys are alright to visit. Just let me know when.”

“Well, that’s the funny thing-”

“Are you outside my apartment?”

“... maybe.”

Groaning in only half-true irritation, Eduard stands from the couch and works out a kink in his shoulder. “Alright, give me about twenty minutes. I walked to work today.” He hangs up before Tino can answer, shoving the phone into his pocket as he comes back into the main seating of the diner.

Feliks stares at him, and almost sheepishly he points at the door to indicate he has to go. Heaving what can only be a half-true sigh, Feliks nods and waves his hand towards the door. He gives him a thumbs up as a thank you, untying his apron and handing it across the counter. Feliks takes it without complaint, but he eyeballs him hard and playfully pouts. Eduard rolls his eyes and turns around to quickly make his exit…

… only to catch a bony shoulder, a to-go cup of coffee slipping from the stranger’s hand and hitting the floor. It splashes both of them, the heat causing an uncomfortable feeling on his legs; not quite a burn but close enough. He opens his mouth to apologize to the stranger, but his eyes widen a fraction when he notices just who it is.

Amusement overtakes him and a smirk worms its way onto his lips. “Yo,” he snickers, “mafioso again. Not exactly nice to see you again, but hello.” The look on Mafioso’s face is so priceless, he takes a mental screencap of the moment. He subsequently kicks his mind for referring to it as a screencap; man, he has _got_ to get out more.

A short conversation and refusal to buy Mafioso a replacement coffee (which makes his face turn the funniest shade of angry red), Eduard finds himself putting his phone number into his phone. Before he hands it back, he taps open the Twitter app. _Lovino, huh_? He glances up at said man, who is grumpily putting his number into Eduard’s phone. Sounds a bit too much like love, which is something this guy seems devoid of.

“I’ll catch you next Friday evening.” Eduard moves to open the door, but Lovino grabs his arm and pulls, making him stop. “What?”

“Why not this Friday?”

A smile he doesn’t mean to make look so melancholy ghosts his face. In the back of his head, he hears Tino laugh. “I’ve got some personal business to attend to. Next Friday, I promise. Later, my dear mafioso. Mark it down in your calendar. Hot date with Eduard.” He can’t contain his laughter at the offended squawking noise Lovino makes, pulling his arm out of his grip and stepping through the door.

As he walks home, he does it with a spring in his step.

* * *

 

_11:53       To: Mafioso  
_ _Don’t forget our date tomorrow <3_

_13:07       From: Mafioso  
_ _go the fuck to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200_

_13:25       To: Mafioso  
_ _You’re gonna make me cry Mafioso_

_13:32       From: Mafioso  
_ _maybe if u cry u’ll get so blurry-eyed u’ll stop texting me while i’m working_

_13:33       From: Mafioso  
_ _now fuck off steve jobs, i’m busy_

* * *

 Fixing Lovino’s laptop ends up leading to something he doesn’t quite expect. Instead of immediately kicking him out, they sit and chat about anything that comes to mind. Lovino’s family, Eduard’s job, their shared interest in comedic horror movies. Eduard’s a bit delighted when he finds out that Lovino’s favorite superhero is also Batman, but they end up in a petty argument over who the best female superhero is (obviously it’s Wonder Woman, but for some reason Lovino keeps insisting She-Hulk is better).

He leaves, and later the next week he runs into Lovino in the diner again. He catches Raivis approaching the booth and waves a hand. “I got this guy, don’t worry. I think the girls over there need you.” He points towards the blonde with glasses and her soulmate from a few weeks ago, and Raivis half-smiles nervously and scurries on towards them. Eduard watches him go for a split second before he slips up to the booth and leans over, all but speaking in Lovino’s ear.

“Hello, mafioso.” He can’t hold back his laughter when he jumps a foot off the seat and whirls around to glare at him. He stands up straight and crosses his arms, clicking the pen repeatedly. “Didn’t know you missed me that much. Should I come over again?”

“Buzz off.” His lips purse, and in the back of his mind Eduard curses how he glances down at them instead of Lovino’s eyes. To cover his tracks, he puts a hand over his heart in mock hurt and turns his back, walking towards the diner counter. He catches Feliks’ eye and grins lopsidedly, which Feliks returns with a raised brow and a pointed finger at Lovino.

Despite the more amusing option being leaving Lovino to beg for him to come back, Eduard values his job more than teasing some poor guy so he spins on his heel and returns to the table. He takes his order and moves behind the counter to stick the ticket in the window, then kneeling to fetch a mug to fill with coffee for him. Before he can fill it, Feliks grabs his wrist and forcefully pulls him towards the employee lounge.

“Hey- Feliks?”

As soon as the door shuts, he spins around and leans in until he’s invading Eduard’s personal space bubble. “Ask him out.”

Eduard deadpans. “Excuse me?”

“That cute guy, the one you nicknamed mafioso?” Feliks does his best Lovino impression, furrowing his brows and twisting his lips into a pout. It’s much too dramatic to resemble the target, but the point still comes across. “That guy. You keep eyeballing him and let me tell you something, Eddie.” He raises a finger, glancing around the room to reassure they’re alone. All it does is annoy Eduard. “The last time I saw somebody looking like you do, it was Elizabeta. And we _all_ know who she was looking at with that pretty little expression, hm?”

It takes a few seconds for what Feliks just implied to sink in. Elizabeta? The last person she looked at so often with so much focus ended up being her soulmate. What does she have to do with-?

Wait.

“You- hey, wait a second. You think he’s my-”

Rapidly nodding, Feliks grabs his hands and shakes them up and down. “Absolutely! One hundred percent yes. You have a look in your eye whenever you look at him-”

“It’s called annoyance.”

“- and whenever you look at him, you end up smiling to yourself and shaking your head in a ‘Wow, I can’t believe how cute he is’ way. Am I right?”

“Gee, Feliks,” he drawls, “if you’re such an expert at this soulmate thing, why don’t you have yours yet?”

“This isn’t about me for once!” He releases one of Eduard’s hands only to jab a finger in his face. “Look here, buddy. You are going to ask him out right now today or I will kick your ass.” As hilarious a mental image this makes, there’s one thing about Feliks everybody knows: he has the ability to fight anybody, he just keeps it reeled back because Toris doesn’t like getting dragged into his fights.

Hell, thinking of Toris… “Let’s make this about you. Do you match Toris?”

Feliks looks caught off-guard, then completely puzzled. “Match? I mean, we don’t have any matching outfits as far as I know. I tried to get him to wear one of those shirts that has the words you, world, and senseless while I had one that says without, my, and is, so when we stand together it reads ‘Without you my world is senseless.’”

“That’s not what I meant.” The image of Toris wearing such a cheesy shirt with Feliks makes the corners of his mouth twitch. That’s a conversation for another time though; Feliks is right. He has been lingering on Lovino for the past few weeks. All it does is make his chest hurt and light up at the same time, which in turn makes him not want to think about it.

The skin under his bandage begins to itch inexplicably, but he heaves a sigh and smiles lightly at Feliks. “Alright, I will. Just give me a second to figure out where I wanna take him. Hell, and how to even do it. In case you haven’t noticed, though I bet you have based on your _impression_ of him, he’s very prickly. I have no idea how he’d react-”

“He’d say yes.” Feliks’ expression softens as well, more gentle support than the previous eager excitement. Eduard’s smile drops and he stares, openly surprised and confused. “Trust me. If I noticed the way your eyes linger, I’ve noticed his. He lingers a lot more than you. Also, you didn’t hear this from me,” he places a hand on Eduard’s shoulder and leans into his ear, “but he keeps looking at his wrist and then you.”

* * *

 Lovino accepts the date invitation, which surprises him.

Lovino doesn’t kick his ass when he kisses him, which surprises him.

Lovino kisses him back, which surprises him.

Lovino texts him later that evening and invites him over that weekend to have a lunch date at his apartment, which surprises him.

What surprises him the most, however, is how before he leaves the lunch date (which went… amazingly, and it only serves to make the simultaneous fluttering and crushing feeling in his chest multiply), Lovino grabs the hem of his sleeve and stops him. It isn’t forceful or fueled by anger as are most his actions involving Eduard. No, instead it’s almost hesitant, nervous even. The way he avoids looking him in the eyes speaks to the assumption.

“D’ya, uh…” Lovino swallows a visible lump in his throat, and Eduard’s eyes watch his Adam’s apple bob. It shouldn’t look as good as it does. “It’s kinda lonely being by myself so much, so I was wondering if we could… fucking hell.” He shakes his head and slaps his cheeks a few times. It’s funny, but the question he dances around makes Eduard’s heart dance in his chest. Asserting eye contact, Lovino grabs his wrist firmly, more like he usually does, and blurts out, “I got some movies I wanna watch with you. Come back tomorrow evening.”

Eduard scans his face for any sign of joking or sarcasm, and only finds vulnerability and hopefulness. He swallows dry and his entire body feels a hell of a lot warmer than it normally should, especially where Lovino’s fingers touch him. He nods quickly, glancing away. Holding his gaze is too embarrassing and scary, for some reason. Why is everything suddenly so difficult, and surprising, and nerve-wracking? Up until this point, it was all funny and entertaining, even fun. This is too serious. This is a mistake. He can’t keep going down this path, this isn’t fair to him-

“Okay,” he finds himself saying as he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Lovino’s cheek. He even grins. “I’ll find you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t show me anything bad, or I might stand you up. Also, make me another cup of coffee when we hang out again. I might be the waiter but you make a cup a lot better than I do.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Faster than he expects himself to move, he grabs his jacket and slides out of the front door of Lovino’s apartment. He shuts it behind himself and stands there for a second, staring at his hand on the doorknob. It just registers how much he’s shaking when he releases it and lifts his hand until it hovers a few inches from his face. He looks his hand over, as if it were injured or marked before lowering it and leaning his back against the apartment’s wall. He slides down until he sits on the floor, staring into nothing.

The gentle pressure of the bandage now feels like a vice cutting off circulation to the skin underneath. This is a horrible mistake and he can’t stop himself.

He huffs, weakly laughing. _At least with Tino it was easy._

* * *

 Several months later, and Eduard still cannot stop making the same mistake.

The bottom line is he has to tell Lovino one day. Sooner than later would be better for the both of them, but the idea of telling him makes every nerve in his body burn uncomfortably. Admitting it wouldn’t hurt him as much as it would Lovino. He’s used to being alone. He’s accepted his curse. He figured staying focused on Tino would keep him from this sort of situation. Fixating on somebody with a matched soulmate, somebody he can never have is a hell of a lot easier than potentially being with somebody he can be happy with. It’s so much easier to be alone.

These days, he doesn’t think of Tino much. They meet for an occasional lunch, but they don’t call each other, they don’t text, they don’t hang out. Berwald has a child from his previous love affair (something incredibly taboo considering the whole soulmate society, but Eduard couldn’t care less), so he’s busy taking care of the kid and working. He’s sure he’s the last thing on Tino’s mind. It’s more likely he only has lunch with him out of friendly obligation at this point. Not that this development is a stranger either. He’s used to being left behind by his friends as well.

It’s funny. Eduard glances down beside him at Lovino, who fell asleep some time ago into this marathon. It’s funny how similar he and Lovino are, being overshadowed and left behind in life and desperately looking for a way to cling onto whoever and whatever is left in their lives. Somehow, the whoever became each other, something Eduard’s not complaining about. The back of his mind complains though. _You’re leading him on_ , it whispers as his fingers brush Lovino’s bangs out of his sleeping face. He looks so sweet when he’s not wound up. _You’re giving him false hope. You know you don’t have one. You’re just going to make his life worse._

He knows that. He knows the longer this goes on, the harder and more painful it will be. But letting go seems equally hard so he feels stuck in a limbo. If he stays, it hurts Lovino. If he leaves, it hurts Lovino. He should have ignored Feliks that day in the diner; he shouldn’t have ever asked him out. It started a spiral to where they are now and for as thankful he is for the past few months, every second that passes is another second he spends in guilt.

Eduard doesn’t realize he’s crying until something wet hits his laptop. He stares at the splattered teardrop blankly, now keenly aware of how they slide down his face. The hand not stroking Lovino’s hair raises up and touches his cheek, pulling away with salted pain on the tips of his fingers. He almost wishes he had cuts on the tips of his fingers; the physical pain of salty water soaking into a wound seems more tolerable than the emotional wrenching in his chest.

As carefully as he can, he sets the laptop down at the end of the bed and slides out of Lovino’s bed. He fumbles in the dark for his phone, slipping out of the bedroom and into the living room. Lovino’s cat watches him from the couch, tail waving lazily as he dials the first number he can think of.

“Hello?” On the other end, Tino yawns and whines, “It’s like after four in the morning. What’s up? Did something hap-”

“I made a mistake.”

The tiredness slips out of his voice, and Tino’s silent for a few seconds. Eduard wonders if he’s hung up, but before he can check, he hears a small sigh and the rustling of sheets. There’s a muffled voice, and he makes out Tino saying, “It’s Eduard. I think it’s important. Just go back to sleep, hm?”

He waits until there’s the sound of a door latching on the line before he dares speak again, staring down the hallway towards Lovino’s bedroom as he does. “I think I really fucked it up this time. I didn’t- it’s- I don’t know why I-”

“What happened exactly?”

He can’t help it. He laughs and collapses onto the couch, startling the cat which causes a meow of protest. He ignores it. “You know how… how I don’t date?”

“... did you get some words-”

“No, still a blank slate. But- but that’s not the problem. I started- there’s a guy, and he’s amazing. He’s got such a snippy sense of humor, he’s so much fun to tease. He’s taught me some Italian and I’ve taught him Estonian, and sometimes I trick him by claiming a Finnish word is Estonian so he accidentally says something wrong and I wish you’d been around to hear him make the mistake but that’s not it. He’s so kind deep down. He cares so much and he feels so, so inferior to his brother and it’s not fair because he shines so brightly on his own but he’s so bitter he can’t ever see it. I’ve been telling him. I tell him and tell him and I just… I think…”

“You think?”

“Tino, I think I’m in love with somebody I can’t ever be with. Because I don’t have a soulmate, and I never will. I never got my words. He has words, and they match what I said to him but it could be by chance. It’s probably by chance. There’s no way I could be his soulmate because I can’t match what he said to me. I messed up!” His voice cracks and he can’t tell if the stinging in the back of his eyes is from lack of sleep or tears. Probably both. “I love him, Tino. I love him like I used to love you, but this time it’s different. I’m not safe this time. I was safe when I was in love with you because there was no chance for us to ever be together. I didn’t match your words, so I knew from the get go we couldn’t, but I stayed on you because I knew if I invested in you this couldn’t happen. But then- then I just ended up meeting him by accident. He ran into me literally and he got so mad at me and oh God, the fire in his eyes was as beautiful as it was irritating and I wanted to get burnt until he was all I knew.

“Now he is. I’ve been burnt and I can’t stop thinking about his smile, his laughter, the way his brows twitch when he’s about to yell at somebody, how he tries to hug his cat but it flicks his nose and he smiles so sweetly at the stupid thing and I’m so fucking deep, Tino. I’m in love with him.”

The silence lasts for over a minute, and Eduard swear Tino fell asleep because the static of the call is still going. He pulls his phone away to double check, and Tino’s name and the call duration stare back at him. He puts the phone to his ear again and regret begins to stab him. He shouldn’t have said all of that. He shouldn’t have even called Tino, this was all a mistake-

“How much do you love him, Eduard?”

“What?”

Tino sounds equally amused as he does serious. “Do you love him more than you ever loved me? Do you love him so much that the thought of waking up tomorrow without him in your life hurts so badly, you don’t want to sleep just in case it comes true? Are you so terrified of losing him you’d do anything you can to keep him by your side?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then you need to let him go.”

* * *

 Feliks and Raivis are both on vacation, so Eduard takes the morning shift almost by himself. The chefs are in the kitchen, but he’s the only server taking orders and delivering food. It’s a lot of work, but he’s had plenty of practice to handle a busy morning breakfast rush. Besides, despite only working part time, Toris agreed to come in and help lessen the load by nine. It’s about fifteen past eight when Eduard glances at the clock, wiping sweat from his brow. Soon he’ll have a bit of help.

The bell to the front door rings and Eduard calls, “Good morning! Take a seat whenever you please and I’ll be right with you,” over his shoulder as he fills up two mugs of coffee. He sets them down on a tray next to a stack of waffles and an omelette and lifts it, speeding across the diner to serve them. He smiles and nods at the customers, wishing them a pleasant meal before he slips back towards the front door.

He nearly drops the serving tray when he locks eyes with the new customer.

“Hey,” mutters Lovino. He hugs himself, appearing a lot smaller than he usually presents himself. His eyes flicker towards Eduard’s wrist, and self-consciously he hides it from Lovino’s gaze behind his back. “Can- uh, I’ll be at the counter. I don’t work today, so just… take care of the customers. I’ll be here when you’re less busy.”

Working is easier said than done with Lovino’s eyes following him around the diner. He nearly drops several plates of food, and he actually spills a child’s orange juice which he apologizes profusely for and replaces free of charge. He looks up at the clock and bites his tongue; almost nine. Toris will be here soon, so he’ll have some help.

The second he thinks it, the front door’s bell rings and Toris waves at him. Eduard offers a thankful smile and gestures towards the employees only room, where he vanishes to fetch his apron. Toris immediately picks up on serving any new customers, and Eduard takes over serving the ones that come to sit at the counter. The breakfast rush passes faster with Toris helping him, and soon there diner is left with only a few families in the booths. And Lovino, sitting alone at the counter. Eduard busies himself for as long as he can wiping mugs and stacking, and restacking the menus, then triple stacking the menus. He’s aware he looks like a fool messing with them, but he’d rather look a fool than talk to Lovino.

“You building a damn tower over there, Eduard?” He almost jumps out of his skin and looks up at Lovino, who offers him a smirk and raised brow. “What’s with the stupid look? I got somethin’ on my face?”

Eduard shuts his unhinged jaw and shakes his head. Lovino’s… speaking to him normally? Like they used to? Cautious yet hopeful, he half-smiles. “Yeah, you got a whole lot of bad attitude all over it. Too bad you can’t fix that up with a wash. Even if you could, it’d take you a few years to fix that ugly mug of yours.”

“I have the ugly mug?” Lovino snorts and waves his hand dismissively. “Sure, sure. I’ve had ten times more lovers than you have.”

“Ten times zero is still zero, Lovino.”

“You’ve had me, so there’s at least one notch on your nerd belt, you jerk.” The mention of their relationship immediately makes their faces drop, and they avoid looking at each other for a few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, Eduard notices Toris watching them with concern. Before he can motion that it’s okay, Lovino looks at him again. “How, uh… you’ve been fine, yeah?”

“Not really. My landlord kicked me out. I have to stay with Feliks until I get a new place.” Mister Braginsky’s deceivingly friendly smile appears in his mind and he swallows thickly. What an unpleasant image. At least he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore. “Doesn’t help my apartment hunting that I don’t make much. That was the cheapest place I could find, but it still ended up being too expensive.”

“Antonio’s old apartment is empty.” Hopefully Lovino doesn’t notice how he flinches at the mention of his new boyfriend. His… soulmate. Eduard stares at the counter as Lovino continues. “He’s still paying the rent there even though he moved into my apartment. Said something about letting his friend Francis stay there, but I’m sure he’d let you stay if I asked him to let you move in. Dunno if he’ll fund all of your rent, but he’d at least cover a bit of it. His family’s kind of loaded, though he doesn’t look like it.”

_He didn’t look like he’d be your soulmate, either._

“Anyway, I can ask him to hold up Francis and let you-”

“No, you don’t have to!” Eduard shakes his head and waves a hand. As helpful a proposal it is, coming from Antonio… from Lovino’s… his stomach twists into the worst knot imaginable as he forces a friendly smile. “There’s no obligation for you to help me out, y’know? We aren’t-”

“I know that,” Lovino’s lips twitch like he wants to say something more, but he holds back and changes instead to, “but I like to think we’re still friends, at least. Not like you have many of those.” It’s a joking jab, but there’s no happiness behind it and it falls flat between them. Lovino’s fingers play with the tips of his hair, and Eduard stares until it hurts his chest. “Listen, I just wanted to help. Even if- well, even though you were right and we weren’t… our relationship wasn’t fake. How I felt wasn’t fake.” He forces what could only be the most heartbreaking smile in the world, and Eduard bites hard on his tongue to keep from reaching over the counter and hugging him.

“Neither were my feelings. I love-” he coughs, “-uh, I _loved_ you.”

Bleakly, Lovino laughs. “I didn’t know Steve Jobs could love anything that wasn’t technological.”

“And I didn’t know a mafioso could love anything except guns and hot women.”

Lovino’s phone begins to ring, the same ringtone he had in their relationship, and he blinks several times in surprise. He glances between the flashing screen and Eduard’s eyes. “Uh, it’s-”

“Go ahead.” Eduard nods and gestures to the door. Lovino opens his mouth to protest, but he shakes his head to stop him. The backs of his eyes sting when he says, “It’s okay. I’ll be here.”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t be.” Eduard glances around and makes sure Toris isn’t looking before he plants a hand on the counter and leans forward. As guilty as it makes him feel, he can’t help it. He leans forward until his lips meet Lovino’s for a brief second. Immediately he pulls back and turns his eyes to the floor. “Goodbye, mafioso.”

Lovino’s speechless, but eventually he hears a small huff of tearful laughter and he dares glance up. Lovino stares at him with such a soft, sad look that Eduard’s throat closes up. “See ya, Steve Jobs.”

The metallic creak of the stool as Lovino gets up and leaves echoes through Eduard’s mind the rest of the day. When Eduard glances down at his now-unbandaged wrist, his blood runs cold.

_"Hey, watch it, will ya?"_ stares back at him in deep black ink.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were wondering: yes, in this fic Roderich is trans and Hubert is his nonbinary biological child.
> 
> Anyway, I'm in hell. Please join me.


End file.
